


If They Let Us

by Secret_H



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Accidental Bonding, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Creatures & Monsters, Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, And then maybe a, Biting, Charity Gala, Childhood Friends, Cultural Differences, Flashback, Friendship, He doesn't really consider that magic, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Love, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, PWP, Poorly written porn, Psychologists & Psychiatrists, Resolved Sexual Tension, Reunions, Sam Wilson Can Talk to Birds, Tags May Change, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Vampires, Wealth, but it still is, high school friends - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-02
Updated: 2019-05-20
Packaged: 2019-11-29 06:16:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18219314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Secret_H/pseuds/Secret_H
Summary: Sam Wilson doesn't play the normal card. He truly considers himself no more than average. He's the only one who thinks this, but considering the stories he's heard, the type of people he comes into contact with, the life he could have lived, it's understandable that he has never pondered the possibility of his own specialness.Perhaps it's even for the best.He certainly gets into enough trouble as it is: trouble that's not done with him yet.And maybe he's not done with trouble either.





	1. Pose

**Author's Note:**

> Now I know what you're thinking. Why am I starting something new, again, without finishing my prior, prior fic? Also, vampires, again?
> 
> Because fuck me, I guess. And I fucking love vampires, I am reclaiming them from Stephanie Meyers.

It was raining; storming, in fact. 

This fact is not too important to the story, except that thunder and lightning made Sam feel nostalgic. Even as he chased after his coworker, both in an effort to avoid being soaked and because they were running late, he felt aware of each flash of light, followed by a rumble that carried through him. It was not unpleasant. 

By the time they made it to the entrance, his socks were soaked, Sarah’s hair was a bit of a mess, and they both knew that they were going to stick out even more than before. Never mind the fact that they were so vanilla (or in Sam’s case chocolate) human, mundanity probably radiated from them, because it was bad enough that there was a very definite limit to the amount of money that they could reasonable spend on a wardrobe, but showing up 15 minutes late looking hurried and half drowned might very well get them turned away at the door. Security guards of a charity gala thrown by one of the richest men in the world could be a bit judgmental. 

Sam could feel the judgement being sneered down at him as he raised his wrist band to the scanner. He shrugged ruefully at the were-person manning the door as both pieces of tech beeped green, before following behind Sarah. To be fair, he didn’t know what he was doing here either. 

In theory, Sam had been invited because of his chosen profession. He may not have been the most famous or well-paid post-human therapists out there, but he was well liked, well reviewed, and possibly the only human post-human therapists who had any real level of success. That said, he was not the type of person to get invited to a gala like this. Galas like this were barely a token excuse for the rich and wealthy to show up and off, and pretend that they cared about “inter-species unity and development”. Maybe Sam could believe that Stark cared a little bit, but if this was really about what they portrayed, it would be a convention, if not a conference. Which all led back to Sam’s mysterious and unexpected invitation. 

He had almost not bother to come. Even if a trip from DC to NY was not really that big a deal, it still cost money. But once Sarah found out about it, and then found out that while travel was on them, accommodations were on Stark, there was no way she was going to let him turn down three days and nights at a 5-star hotel, as well as a chance to network on a completely different level. They were trying to grow their small office, after all, or at least the clientele list. 

Sam figured that she might be regretting it a little, as they both tried to find the bathrooms, while avoiding eye contact with all of the much better dressed people whose eyes were following them in mild disbelief. Sarah sped up, eager to escape cold gazes, but to Sam it was not an unfamiliar feeling. It had been a while, though, and it wasn’t exactly comfortable. 

In the end, Sam managed to lead the way to the bathroom. He was not completely unfamiliar about the layout of buildings like this, either. 

Sam considered following Sarah's example, and heading into the men's room, but without hair to worry about, what could he possibly do in there: take off his socks? 

That would be hilarious, but Sarah would never forgive him. Plus, he should at least pretend to try to make a good impression. Though he doubted anyone here would be seriously interested in their small-time, out-of-state, human-owned therapy office. 

By the time Sarah reappeared, Sam's suit jacket was starting to dry. As they followed the signs that lead to the elevator to the main event, however, his shoes squished uncomfortably. 

To be honest, Sam had assumed that most of the night was going to be like that. More than a little uncomfortable, but bearable enough to power through. He would follow Sarah around, steering her clear of anyone she needed to be steered clear of, stopping her from making an unknowing fuex paus, and generally acting incredibly unlike his usually amicable self. 

It didn't quite work out, since he was way too outgoing and outspoken to follow through. It didn't take more than 15 minutes before he was getting into a well-spirited debate with a faery. He didn't understand Sarah's reluctance; it was definitely a lower-tiered one, though it's not like he was actually worried about his soul or any anything. The conversation was mostly just word play and so many terrible, terrible puns. 

Eventually he was pulled away, though not before he was sexually solicited. Which was flattering, but even if he wasn't basically celibate, probably sleeping with faery was a bad idea. Or at least a little more adventurous than he was going for. 

"Jesus, Sam. For someone who was reluctant to come, you sure seem to like playing with fire." Sarah was wrapped around his left arm, and apparently unaware about how good and select a faery's hearing was. Sam almost turned around to see if their ears twitched. That was always cute. 

"And for someone who forced me to come, you certainly seem to be lacking in the spirit of unification and understanding." Sam replied. 

Sarah kissed her teeth and side-eyed him. "Sometimes I forget how reckless you are." 

"How dare you disparage my character. I am a paragon of sanity and cool headedness." 

"That's just what you want everyone to think." Sarah was slowly relaxing. "You have them all so convinced that you are the sanest, most stable mom friend they know, and then when you tell them to jump from a bridge, they assume you have a good reason, when really you just thought it might be fun." 

"Are you still mad about the bungee jumping?" 

"Of course, I’m still mad! I will never forgive you for that. Who sets up a mandatory company trip to go bungee jumping." 

"Someone who couldn't arrange for such a large group to go skydiving in time. But there's always next year." 

"I swear to God, Sam, you better be kidding." 

"Oh man, is that a dragon?" 

"Sam-" Sarah growled. 

"I've never met a dragon before. I am so glad I let you talk me into this." 

"Sam!" 

Speaking to dragons was interesting. They were master shape-shifters, so currently, they just looked like exceedingly attractive humans, but Sam had read that they emoted in a combination of projected empathy (for close family members) and a spectrum of light invisible to just about every non-dragons species in existence. It meant that no matter what they or anybody said, their faces were always stone cold, their voices always flat. 

It was hilarious, especially considering that dragons apparently liked puns almost as much as faeries, as Sam was delighted to learn. 

As Sarah chased after Sam, pulling him away when his personable nature was found to be less than charming, (or altogether too charming,) she watched as he interacted with witches and were-persons, elves and occasionally, just some really rich humans with confidence and ease. Sarah might have convinced Sam to accept the invitation with her being his plus one, but she never had any real intension of being the one to do the networking. She might be able to look deep inside of another person's psyche on a one on one basis, but she couldn't just make friends with people the way Sam could. It was like he radiated goodwill and acceptance. 

Also, a good amount of charisma. Which was another reason he could talk people into, (and out of, but mostly into,) doing what he thought was a "good idea". 

Sam, before he was a therapist who was technically a licensed psychologist, was a people person. 

So, it was a little strange for him to freeze up. And it was more than a little strange for him to see someone, recognize them, and deliberately turn away, before moving to walk off. It brought up a number of questions, not the least of which was, 'who could he possibly have recognized here at Tony Stark's gala?’ 

It seemed like Sarah was about to find out. 

"Sam." A voice stated, breathlessly. There was a lull in conversation around the speaker. The voice came again, this time a call. "Sam! Sam Wilson." 

Sam Wilson halted his retreat. Sarah saw his face to through several expressions, none of which she recognize, before settling into something resigned, but not without amusement. With a tilt of his head that lead into it, Sam made a smooth face heel turn. 

The conversation around their area quieted, as people around them pretended not to be interested. Sam didn't speak. Only met the gaze of the man who had called out to him. 

Made direct eye-contact with a vampire! One that, now that Sarah thought about it, looked vaguely familiar. Somehow, despite the fact that she had watched him interact without fear with a bunch of supernatural and fantastical people the entire night, Sarah still felt herself get heart palpitations. They were really going to have to talk if they made it through the night. About so many things. 

The vampire faltered, and then looked away. Sheepishly! His arms raised up slightly, then lowered. He looked back at Sam with a melancholy smile and chuckled. "I- I can understand if you don't recognize me. I've changed a lot since we last met. I used to be a lot smaller..." 

The only thing more surprising than seeing this giant, blonde-haired, blue-eyed vampire stumble over his words that were trailing off into a mumble was Sam's deep, beleaguered sigh cutting through. The human rolled his eyes before walking towards the vampire. Closer, closer, almost too close, stopping not two feet away. 

"Aw, man. Of course, I know it's you, Steve." Sam hooked his thumbs into his pants pockets, making a show of looking up at the vampire, who Sarah did recognize now. "Just cause you grew into yourself a bit doesn't mean I wouldn't recognize those baby blues anywhere. So stop looking like I kicked your dog." 

The vampire, Steve Rogers (Steve fucking Rogers), immediately brightened. He grinned wide enough to be an overt threat coming from a vampire. Sam didn't seem threatened and instead stood patiently as the vampire was suddenly very in his space, eyes roaming eagerly. Sarah saw the vampire's (Rogers, Lord Rogers?) hands twitched as if he wanted to reach out and touch. That he did not was a level discretion that Sarah was surprised by considering how oblivious he has to the attention that his behavior had garnered. 

"Sam." Rogers murmured, eyes hooding. He leaned forward even closer and was not at all subtle as he breathe deeply. He opened his eyes completely after a second, but didn't pull back. "It's so nice...to see you again." 

The face he was making now was enough for Sarah to shift away. It could only just barely be classified as a smile, but to call it a baring of teeth wouldn't correctly convey the share amount of barely leashed hunger that it contained. 

Apparently, it was too much, even for Sam, who overted his gaze. Finally, a show of self-preservation. 

"It's nice to see you, too, Steve." Sam said breezily, studying the cieling. "But your face is kinda scaring me, so if you want to continue this reunion, I'm going to need you to turn it down a bit." 

It was probably bold to assume that Sam Wilson understood what self-preservation was. Most people within hearing distance had stopped bothering to pretend not to be listening. Sarah couldn't blame them. She was just as riveted. 

Rogers blinked. Then made an obvious, theatrical effort to change his expression. It wasn't much better. 

Sam peered up at him. "A little more." 

Rogers' face flattened. The room was suddenly tense. Perhaps the human had pushed too far. Sarah wanted to interrupt like she had been all night, but she couldn't make herself move. This was the first time that she felt that the man might be in actual physical danger. 

Sam laughed. It was more of a giggle really. His body released a tension that it had been holding since he had spotted Rogers. "Maybe a little less, Rogers." 

Rogers beamed at the human, closed lipped and brighter than the sun. It was now Sarah's turn to blink. What a weird comparison to make about a vampire. It was true, and yet it was more unnerving for being true. 

Vampires did not look like that. Vampires didn't look at humans like that. They didn't even look at their own children like that, except maybe behind closed doors. Maybe. 

It was finally sinking in to Sarah and her fellow on watchers that these two men knew each other. They had history enough to effortlessly fall into insides jokes. They were comfortable enough to be standing so close to each other. Despite the fact that Rogers was basically vampire royalty and Sam was for all appearances only outshined in basic normality by Sarah herself, there was a real, intimate friendship(?) that existed alongside the clear sexual tension. 

"Sam..." Rogers breathe as softly and intimately as a lover. His expressions grew morose. "Why are you here? Where did you go? You suddenly disappeared, and we waited for you to contact us, but- " 

Rogers cut himself off. 

"Shit, man." Sam looked chagrined, his previous humor corrupted by discomfort. "I forgot that you did that." 

"Did what?" Rogers asked with a frown. 

"Jumped right into things with no hesitation." Sam answered with a half grin. "I mean, I'm here because I was invited. Ostensibly because of my job, though now I am doubting that a bit.” 

“Invited? What do you do? That doesn’t-” Rogers trailed off. He growled low, “Tony.” 

“Stark? Well, it is his gala.” Sam cocked his head to the side. “Are you two friends?” 

“Ostensibly.” Rogers looked away with a sigh. He shifted on his feet, his gaze drawn back to the human in front of him. “How- how have you been?” 

“Steve. Man, Steve, I don’t really want to have this conversation here.” Sam reached out and placed his hand on Rogers’ upper arm. Sam Wilson, human, laid his hand on the person of Steven Grant Rogers’, pure-blooded vampire, arm to comfort him or waylay him. As if it was nothing. The Rogers being some of the oldest and most powerful vampires to settle in the western hemisphere were also one of the nicest, humblest of families. To that point, all vampires were possessive and territorial, even about their personal space, and no amount of kindness was going to stop you from getting your arm ripped off if you acted overly familiar. So, it had to be that this was not an act. Sam was in fact that familiar. “I don’t want to have this conversation at all, but if you insist- “ 

“I do.” Rogers said, leaning into Sam’s palm. 

“Then I would prefer to not have it in front of a live studio audience.” Sam pulled away. “If that’s okay with you.” 

“Yes!” Rogers reached out and snatched Sam’s hand. “Yes, we should relocate. We should talk. In private. I have a room here, well not on this floor, and I don’t really own it, but Tony said it was mine, so let’s...” 

Rogers was already tugging Sam away. The crowd parted automatically, their heads turning with the couple as they headed for a different exit than the one the guests had entered. Sarah stood with everyone else, unsure whether she should step in, especially since Sam wasn’t resisting. She also hesitated to draw attention to herself, she didn’t want people looking to her for answers. She only had questions. 

Sarah remained frozen in uncertainty as she watched Sam and his vampire disappear behind a guarded door, unsure how to feel or what to do with herself. She could only wait and hope that he would come back. Preferably, before the Gala ended.


	2. Close to You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The avengers may not be considered the avengers in this universe, but they are still bad at interpersonal boundaries.
> 
> Plus, is it considered hinting at past relationships, if the characters just out and state it?

No one would deny that Tony Stark was a nosy bastard. He liked to know things, even when it wasn’t really any of his business. A lot of the time he had no excuse, and Pepper or Rodney would let him know, but when it came to his group of “ostensible” friends, he had a readymade excuse. Their problems had a tendency to explode into being everyone’s problem. 

More to the point, most of the people who he could call friends were either just as nosy, lacking a strong enough personality to say no, or likely to look the other way to maintain plausible deniability. Steve could sometimes turn the tables, but Steve did not have an opinion right now. It went without saying that when Tony disappeared to, okay, spy on Steve and his long lost paramore, the rest of the group eventually showed up in the common room behind him. In Natasha case, she had already taken her usually seat on the couch. 

Jarvis, the genus loci of every piece of Stark property, immediately knew what was going on. He had been listening while Tony spent the last month convincing Miss Potts to let him arrange everything. "Mister Stark, I must insist against this course of action. I do not believe Miss Potts would approve." 

"Well she's not going to find out from me or you, so let's not sweat the small stuff." Tony threw himself on the couch, scooching over to let Bruce sit. 

"I want to let it be known that I do not approve of this." The soft looking man announced to the room. But he sat down though. 

Clint fell down into the seat between him and Natasha. "Just let it happen, Brucey. We can't stop Tony and we definitely can't stop Natasha." 

They all turned to her. She smiled at them, her fangs beading paralytic toxin. They looked away. 

"Well you heard the woman." Tony said loudly. "Now hush. Jarvis, you know what I want." 

"If I must, Sir." A voice projected from everywhere. The lights dimmed as the giant TV in front of them blinked on. 

"Don’t be like that." Tony said, watching as the door to Steve's suite opened. "If it makes you feel better, think of it as us making sure Rogers doesn't do something he might regret. Cause for a second there I thought he was going to toss that man on the nearest table and take him right there." 

"Shh!" Natasha sounded sharply. 

They were quiet. 

They watched. 

….................... 

The house colors of the Rogers family were red, gold, and blue. Because of that, their blond hair, blue-eyed phenotype, and the fact that they were one of the first families to move to the "new world", they were often conflated with a patriotic ideal. To be fair, they were rather patriotic in the best, most idealistic way, but the room that Steve had dragged Sam to was a bit much. 

Steve froze as he flicked on the lights. It looked like Uncle Tom had vomited nationalism all over the suite. 

"It looks like Uncle Tom vomited 'American Excellence' in here." Sam said, pairing around in humorous disgust. 

"Dammit, Tony." Steve groaned, putting his head in his and Sam's hands. He hadn't let go at any point since he took it. 

“To clarify, this is Tony as in Tony Stark? Also, isn’t this your apartment? Have you never been in here?” Sam wiggled his fingers, and felt Steve’s tighten. 

“I try not to indulge Tony’s whims, especially when it comes to collecting people who can stand him.” Steve drew them both farther into the suite, the conspicuously wooden door closing behind them with an obtrusive, futuristic sound. It was almost exactly like the automated doors from Star Trek, and Sam was getting a clear picture about the type of person that Stark was. “Besides, my family has multiple apartments where I can safely assume my business is not being overheard by people who hang out in the vents.” 

“Is that something I should be worried about?” Sam asked curiously. 

“Probably not right now, but then...” Steve trailed off, brow furrowing, scanning the room for nothing in particular. It was only when Sam tried to step away, that he came back to himself. “I suppose this is as close to neutral ground as we can get without risking the rain.” 

“The closest to neutral ground we can get is your hand-designed suite?” Sam humored. 

“Well, you’ve seen about as much of it as I have.” Steve replied, sheepishly. There was a beat. 

“Can I have my hand back now?” Sam asked, with a quirk to his lips. 

Steve looked at their joined hands with an expression that Sam couldn’t read. “Not yet.” 

Sam blinked, then chuckled softly. “Okay? Can we move a little farther into the room?” 

“Yeah...yeah.” Steve replied absently, without looking up. They didn’t move. Sam looked down at their joined hand, as well, now loosely entwined. He only just noticed Steve’s thumb, rubbing into skin. It felt both familiar and unfamiliar, filled with a nostalgia that made Sam want to swing their hands between them. 

Despite the awkwardness of the situation, for the first time in a long time, Sam felt at peace in a way that he hadn’t remembered was possible. The constant, low-level hum of tenderness that he had learned to ignore was lessened. And then, more strongly than it had in years, the junction between his neck and his neck throbbed. 

Sam pulled in a stuttered gasp, his hand rushing up to hover over his Marks, but he knew better than to touch them. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, then again. After ten seconds, he sighed and opened his eyes to meet Steve’s. The vampire was looking puzzled and distressed. “Are you..?” 

Steve didn’t finish. Sam didn’t answer. The human turned away, walking deeper into the suite. It was huge, a large half circle couch in the middle of the carpeted half of the room that Sam had to assume was the living room. It faced a false fireplace with a giant TV over the banner, which was cover in knick-knacks, which Sam thought was a bit much. Who knick-knacked some else's apartment? It seemed like the designer of this room, or Tony Stark, cared less about what Steve might like, and went about their task more like they were playing a room designer game, picked a theme, and ran with it. 

Steve watched Sam meander around the room with intensity, resisting the urge to follow after the man. He wanted to ask what just happened, but they already had at least one uncomfortable conversation to get through before asking after everyone's possible healthy issues. That was not a conversation he was looking forward to. 

With a frown of irritation, Steve gave in to his impulse, and started to trail behind Sam as the human lightly touched and trailed fingers across particular shiny or strange looking artifacts that littered then room. Steve made a note not to get rid of those things that managed to pick up a whisper of Sam's scent. 

"Are you just going to follow me around all night?" Sam asked without stopping or turning around. 

"Do you plan on avoiding having this conversation all night?" Steve parried without stopping or looking away. 

"I'm not avoiding anything." Sam shrugged indifferently. "There's nothing stopping you from asking your questions." 

"Sam." Steve faltered. "I feel this would for a lot easier if you would at least look at me." 

"Well, personally, Steve," Sam sighed even as he turned to shoot the vampire a look. "I feel almost the exact opposite." 

Still, they had completed a circuit and a half around the room, so it was clear that it would be better for Sam to just give in. Steve was one of the few people that could outpace him in stubbornness, and there was no way Sam was going to win an endurance contest. 

Sam made an about-face for the second time that night. He was starting to think that it might be a nervous tick. He took a deep breath to center himself. “Okay, Steve. Lay it on me.” 

“Lay it on you?” 

“Well, we can go through the standard motions of reintroducing ourselves after a ten-year friendship hiatus, but we did that down stairs, didn’t we?” Against his will, Sam found himself averting his eyes again. “Besides, it’s clear that you have something to say, so lay it on me.” 

Certainly, more polite than saying, ‘let’s get this over with’. Though, given Steve’s look of consternation, the vampire didn’t really agree. 

“Sam, I’m not going to yell at you.” Steve gritted out in frustrations. “I didn’t drag you up here to emote at you until I feel better. I’m not angry. I’m happy to see you.” 

He didn’t sound happy to see Sam. He sounded like he was holding back tears. “Steve, I am sure that I’m being a bit unfair. It’s just that, there is no part of me that wants to be having this conversation right now. But if I didn’t think it was necessary, I wouldn't be here, so stop dragging it out and ask me what you want to know!” 

“WHY!?” Steve shouted, though to be fair, it was at least partially because of Sam’s steadily rising volume. Steve inhaled sharply, before speaking again, quieter, but no less urgent. “I want to know why. I want an explanation. 

“Why? You just disappeared. And that wasn’t so strange.” He looked away with a light blush. ”After what happened. I mean, since your parents found out. But even after they shipped you away, and turned us away at the door to your old home, we always expected you to get in contact with us. Over the phone or through the mail. Hell, I even bothered to get a Mirrorbook after it got big. But...” 

Sam frowned sadly, pacing away towards the faux-fireplace. Why did Steve have to be so honest with his feelings? 

“We really missed you, Sam. I really missed you.” Steve sounded like he wanted to cry, but Sam knew that he wouldn’t. Steve hated crying, since he came from a family of strong magic, his tears manifested almost purely as blood, rather than a diluted form or just a metallic tasting saline solution. Sam had only ever seen it twice, and it could get messy. “Why didn’t you come back?” 

“I don’t know if I can give you an answer that would satisfy you.” Sam gently touched the knick-knacks above the fireplace. “I guess, when it comes right down to it, I was scared.” 

“Scared?” Steve’s voice sounded so small, Sam wanted to comfort him. “We scared you?” 

“Hm. I guess, it wasn’t-” Sam inhaled sharply. Exhaled, “I mean, I guess it wasn’t what I was expecting?.. God, that sounds really bad.” 

“Did we do something wrong? Did we hurt you?” Steve’s voice sounded, muffled, like his face was in his hands. Sam didn’t turn around to check. 

“Not in any way that your thinking. Well-” Sam gave a small smirk. “Maybe a little bit, but that wasn’t unexpected. A bit of pain wasn’t unexpected, but everything else, and even after...I just didn’t think it would be that way?” 

“Be what way?” Steve voice was clearer now. Sam could hear the budding of irritation. “What way did you expect it to be?” 

“I don’t know, Steve!” Sam swirled around. “Not like it was. Not so scary. Not so vaguely traumatizing. Not having a longstanding impact on my health? Not. That. Way!” 

“Your health?!” Steve was suddenly right there. His hands opening and closing, stuck between wanting to reach out, and being afraid of the damage he could do. “So, we did hurt you. I was pretty sure that I might have left a Mark when I bit you. Was that the problem? Did your body reject it?” 

“Your Marks? You biting me had nothing to do with it.” Sam reached out, and took the vampire’s hands in a familiar gesture, wanting to make sure that he didn’t claw at himself. “No, as it turns out, with someone with my predisposition, having a threesome with two alphas and getting double knotted while still in my developmental stage can have some long-term side effects.” 

Steve's face flushed bright pink almost instantly. He tried to tug his hands away weakly, but Sam didn’t let go. The human chuckled to himself and had to resist kissing the vampire’s sweet cheeks. “Really, Sam. There’s no need to be vulgar.” 

“How would you have put it? In the most non-vulgar way?” Sam looked up at Steve, who couldn't meet his eyes. 

“Better.” Steve replied stolidly. It took a minute for his face to cool down. Sam didn’t mind watching in silence. “Side effects? Long-term. But you couldn’t have gotten- You- you're a beta?” 

Sam pulled away. 

“Did you?” Steve stood frozen in shock. “Were you?” 

“I didn’t get pregnant, Steve. You're a vampire, remember.” Sam said briskly, "but to say I am a beta would be inaccurate. And to say that I was a beta would only be mostly accurate.” 

“I don’t understand, Sam.” Steve didn’t know if he should be panicking or not, so it hardly seemed like the time to start that age old argument. “Please just explain it to me.” 

Sam walked around the vampire and took a seat on the couch. “There’s not much to say. I was born with omegan sexual organs, specifically internal, but with the physical and hormonal capacity to be either an omega or beta. My parents chose beta and I don’t blame them. Social prejudice aside, male omega biology can get real weird and unnecessarily complicated real fast. For most of my childhood I took the pills I needed to make that a reality. I stopped a bit before I met you and James, since I had successfully entered puberty as a beta. That was that. 

“Until I made friends with some scrawny vampire a grade below me at a private high school I probably should never have gotten into. Then he introduced me to his older vampire childhood friend. Yada, yada, yada, I lost my virginity and later passed out in front of my parents when I got home. Part of it was blood loss, part of it was my body figuring that if I was going to go around sleeping with alphas then maybe I would be better off as an omega. It didn’t quite work out so clean cut, but I had to make some life choices that I never expected to have to deal with.” 

Sam stretched his arms up with a yawn, settling into the couch cushions. He looked at Steve’s surprised visage and looked away. “I’m sorry, sincerely sorry, that I never reached out to you. At first, I was busy, and then I was afraid, and then it felt too awkward. I liked to assume that you would move on. Eventual the Marks would disappear, so that I could think about touching someone without it feeling like a betrayal. One day I would read up about either one of you in a trashy magazine and I wouldn’t be filled with longing. I assumed that I would move on. Losing my virginity in a threesome with vampire royalty would just be a really interesting anecdote that no one would believe.” 

Sam patted the cushion beside him, and Steve blinked at him before walking over and taking a seat. “But even in a world where that was what happened, it would still have been wrong of me to cut you off like that. Both of you. I’m sorry.” 

“Oh.” Steve rested his head back, clenching his eyes shut. “Okay. Thank you for apologizing. I want to say that I’m sorry too. For earlier tonight. And for not being good at aftercare at sixteen years old. For scaring you. Also, for eating the last slice of tiramisu that one time.” 

Sam sat up with a jolt. “I knew that was you!” He looked around for something to hit Steve with, but apparently Tony Stark’s interior designer didn’t believe in couch pillows. “I can’t believe you blamed Barnes for that. I can’t believe he let you.” 

“He owed me one.” Steve explained, turning his head in Sam’s direction with a smile. 

“Well now you owe me one.” Sam jabbed his finger into Steve’s left pec. The vampire flinch away. “One slice of tiramisu. And I mean that good shit. Super light, super fluffy, boozy as hell.” 

“Of course,” Steve indulged. “Anything you want.” 

“Hmph. Damn straight.” Sam settled back into his seat, and without though, let his head rest on Steve’s shoulder. It was surprisingly comfortable; he was used to a Steve Roger’s that was nothing more than flesh and bone. The boy hadn’t been sickly, it was simply that born vampires tended to have wild and varying growth rates up until they basically stopped aging. Steve had struggled to put on weight for most of his younger years. Now, the vampire was built like a god of lifting, but Steve hadn’t yet taken on the statuesque look of vampires after they had more or less frozen in time. He still had some developing to do, though Sam couldn’t imagine how. “Yo, Steve.” 

There was a beat of silence. “Yes, Sam?” 

“I’ve got a question for ya. Well, I have two questions.” 

Another beat. Steve sighs nostalgically. “Ask away.” 

“Are you still in contact with Barnes?” 

Steve jerked sitting up a little straighter. “Of course. Why would you ask that?” 

“I mean.” Sam fumbled, having been jarred away. “I guess just because he’s not here. And you know...” 

“I don’t.” Steve narrowed his eyes. Sam couldn’t meet them. 

He mumbled. “I haven’t really seen him on the circuit. Like in magazines and stuff. He used to be pretty popular.” 

“Ooh?” Steve turned all the in the couch his eyes flashing with delight. “Have you been looking?” 

“I’m a post-human therapist, Rogers.” Sam replied hotly. He turned away, crossing his arms. “It’s only natural that I keep up with these things.” 

“Ah. Don’t pout, Sam.” Steve said, amused. 

“I’m not pouting.” Sam said, pouting. 

“I’m only kidding around.” Without thought, Steve reached out and wrapped his arms around Sam’s waist, effortlessly pulling the human into him as he leaned in. He buried his nose in Sam’s neck, and reminded himself not to bite. How nostalgic. “I think it’s cute that you’ve been keeping tabs on us. Don’t worry. Bucky and I are still friends. Best friends.” Steve’s voice sobered a bit. “He’s just going through a tough time right now.” 

“Oh?” Sam twisted around. 

“He-” Steve huffed, trying to gather his thoughts. “He got involved in some unfortunate business a couple of years ago. And, well you know how hard it is to do real, permanent damage to a vampire without killing them?” 

Sam pulled away, to fully meet Steve’s gaze. “Yes?” 

“Well, he got hurt.” Steve looked away. “He lost his left arm.” 

“Lost?!” Sam exclaimed. “Like it didn’t grow back?” 

“It did not. He was real torn up about it at first, obviously, but he got used to it. Faster than me even.” Steve sighed. “After that though, especially given the situation, he was no longer the media darling. I mean, he doesn’t miss it or anything, but it still pisses me off.” 

“Steve, my man, you’re getting a bit ahead of yourself.” Sam turned his whole body towards the vampire. “I need some context. And then an actual explanation.” 

Steve frowned, his eyes cutting to the side. “I think that it would be better for Bucky to explain.” 

“Let Bucky explain..? What, are you going to call him up?” 

“No.” Steve stated firmly. “You are going to ask him. In person.”

**Author's Note:**

> You know, when I write stories, it's usually just me having a scene in mind, and then build an entire universe to make that scene happen. After I write the scene, though, I lose all interest. Does that happen to anyone else?


End file.
